


In it For The Long Run

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Weight Issues, body issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Harry is away on an Auror mission Draco comes to the sudden realization that he looks quite different now than he did as a teenager.  How will his body issues affect his own self worth and his relationship with Harry?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In it For The Long Run

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a post floating around my dash on tumblr about body representation in the Potterverse and how perfect Harry and Draco always are. And it got me thinking and i wanted to think about the future...and what if Draco gained weight as they got older. Not a lot but enough where he didn't feel the same, didn't look the same. How would that impact his feelings about himself and his relationship with Harry? So that's what this deals with. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea but it felt important.

With heavy footsteps Draco climbs the dark stairwell that leads to their bedroom, running his right hand along the wall slowly to trace his fingers over all of the photos that adorn the walls.

So many photos. So many memories.

"It's just two months, I can do this," Draco mumbles to himself as he pushes the door open and stares at the empty bed. It looks particularly large all of the sudden, which makes Draco feel very small. The bed is just as they'd left it this morning, and Draco can't help but smile at the fact that Harry never did get around to making his side of the bed.

"I can do this," he says to himself once more, changing out of his suit and into a pair of Harry's old sweats and a rather over-sized red t-shirt that Draco thinks once at one point must have belonged to Harry but somehow continues to make its way into his own  wardrobe. Slowly he makes his way towards Harry side of the bed and slides underneath the covers, pressing his face into the pillow and closing his eyes as Harry's scent envelops him.

The next morning Draco is in no better of a mood when awakens to realize that he had not simply had a bad dream and that Harry is in fact gone and will remain gone for almost three months.   _Fuck_.

"Idiots!  The lot of them.  Bumbling idiots.  Anyone could've done the job, they didn't need Harry," he yells to the empty kitchen as he puts the kettle on and sets about making himself a cup of tea. When he finally sits down at the table and puts the warm, sweet tea to his lips he feels the beginnings of his anger slip away only to be replaced by an aching sense of loneliness.

Harry was going to be gone nearly three months.   _Three months_.  Bloody stupid Auror mission. They hadn't sent Harry on one of those really long ones in years. Draco figured getting older had to come with at least some perks and theirs, or his at least, was the fact that after Harry had turned thirty they'd slowly begun to send him on less and less dangerous missions.

At first Harry had been irate at being taken off the most active cases until it had become clear they were prepping him, training him for something bigger - head Auror. And though he hadn't technically been appointed yet they all knew it would come any day now. Which was just fine as far as Draco was concerned. He was absolutely tired of worrying himself sick every time Harry went out on a particularly dangerous mission, especially the long ones, and especially the ones that didn't allow for any communication outside of the most absolute necessary. Draco had learned the hard way right after they had begun dating that letting Harry know exactly what he wanted to do to him in great detail when he finally came home was apparently not considered important enough to warrant communication during top secret missions.

The problem was the last few years Draco had gotten very used to Harry being home, to him being safe, and especially to him being available at the drop of the hat.  So the idea that he was going to be gone, without any form of communication, was already grating on Draco's last nerve and it hadn't even been a full twenty four hours yet.

The problem was this time they needed Harry, needed his expertise, and Draco knew he neither could nor would have protested. He trusted Harry and he knew without a shadow of a doubt he was fully capable of taking care of himself. But that didn't mean he had to like it. Not at all.

The days pass slowly at first, but Draco finds himself falling into an easy, though somewhat lonely, routine nonetheless. He wakes up early like always, making his tea and enjoying his favorite lemon Danish before apparating to work where he spends the majority of his day sitting at his desk working on highly important, if not occasionally boring, ministry paperwork. His nights are spent on the couch eating takeaway while he alternates between listening to the wireless or reading, though he often finds h9imself reading the same pages over and over not really paying enough attention to absorb the material.

Nights are the hardest and he finds himself unable to sleep on his own side of the bed. It is two weeks before he finally forces himself to wash the sheets and just three weeks before he finds himself sneaking out a different item of Harry's clothing to sleep in every night.

Most nights he wakes up in the pitch dark unable to sleep and finds himself in the middle of the kitchen nursing a too sweet cup of coffee with more milk than coffee, something he only finds himself forcing down because Harry likes it so much. Sometimes when he closes his eyes and swallows down the warm, bitter liquid he can almost swear he remembers the taste of it on Harry's lips that last morning so many weeks ago.

The problem is, after fourteen years together and over thirteen of those spent living together, Draco can't quite remember what it's like to be in an empty house, especially not one where Harry's presence is so overwhelmingly present. And while Draco takes great comfort in the memories he sees spread throughout their home he also finds it unwittingly deepening the ache in the pit of his stomach.

It's not that Draco can't function on his own. He manages just fine at work, not missing a single deadline and in  fact getting so far ahead of his workload he is sure he'll be able to take at least a week off when Harry finally gets home. He also doesn't miss a single one of his weekly lunch dates with either Pansy or Blaise.  Life seems to go on just as usual, at least until he gets home and is reminded of how very empty and cold everything seems without Harry.

By the sixth week of Harry's absence Draco is embarrassed to find himself falling asleep most nights curled up on the couch with the fire crackling beside him and an empty mug of hot cocoa cradled in his hands; anything to warm himself. The bed has just become too empty, and far too big.  The following weeks pass in a bit of a blur really, as one day bleeds into the next.

Unfortunately Draco finds the last two weeks the worst. It somehow becomes almost unbearable to concentrate at work and the emptiness of the house seems to be driving him crazy. At least that's the excuse Draco uses when a few days before Harry is finally supposed to be home Draco finds himself in the attic going through their old school trunks. He knows it's a bit sentimental and silly but he finds himself running his hands over the rough fabric of Harry's Quidditch robe just the same. He spends longer than he would admit to anyone studying Harry's things and remembering.  When he finally notices the sun beginning to set out of the attic window he folds Harry's things up and closes the lid on his trunk.

He is about to head back downstairs when something continues to nag at the back of his mind and he finds himself searching out his own school trunk buried far in the corner. He opens with a creak, half expecting something sinister to pop out but all he sees are piles of books, old rolled up parchments and his folded up Quidditch robe.

He isn't sure what posseses him, but Draco finds himself stripping off his own clothes and attempting to try on his old Quidditch gear. He half expects it to be a tad tight, he's not exactly a teenager anymore after all. However what he isn't expecting is the fact that is in fact so small he can't even get the fasteners done and he frowns down at himself when he realizes the most he can even manage is the outer robe and even that seems to be bursting at the seems ready to pop open with the slightest movement.

"Fucking stupid," he mutters to himself angrily, slamming the lid on his trunk shut and quickly changing back into his other clothes. As he heads down the stairs his eyes catch on one of the photos in the hallway and he stops and stares.

"I can't be that different," he whispers, tracing his fingers over each photo. There are so many, from all their years together, and the only thing Draco can ever remember noticing was how happy they looked. He'd always figured that something about Harry had softened him somehow, though he'd always meant that in a more abstract way, not literally that he had become soft and squishy. Yet he can't help but notice as he walks down the hallway staring at him and Harry aging before his eyes in these photos that the last few years his features have changed. It's so gradual Draco supposes he never really noticed, except now that he's looking he can't not see the change.

He can't help but notice that Harry looks almost the same, older for sure with features that seem to have grown more handsome with age, his broad shoulders and smooth muscles on display no matter what he is or isn't wearing. Harry had never given up on his Auror training even after being traded to a desk and supervisor position and it's plain to see in every photo that Harry, _his_ Harry, hasn't changed very much a all; same boyish smile and effervescent energy, still bursting with energy and fit as ever.

But Draco does not look the same, in fact he's horrified to notice that the last few years he seems to have rounded out slightly in places he swears used to be much flatter and sharper. The last photo at the edge of the wall near their bedroom door is slightly bigger than the others, with Draco and Harry sprawled out on the beach as the sun sets behind them. They're kissing softly, and Harry's hand is cupping the back of Draco's neck tenderly, but all Draco can focus on is the fact that Harry is half naked and looks like a professional Quidditch player while Draco is sitting there in his trunks and a t-shirt. How had he not noticed!

He shakes his head and frowns as he heads into the bedroom pulling off his shirt and staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looks down at himself, his eyebrows drawing together in concentration as he lets out a deep breath and jabs his finger into his stomach. He tries not to get too upset but instead all he can think about it is Harry coming home and what if Harry suddenly notices too.

The following day Draco is even crabbier than usual when he goes to get dressed and decides to pull out one of his odder suits from the back of his wardrobe that Harry had always loved, hoping it might somehow bolster his self confidence only to discover it now no longer comfortably fits.

"Maybe if you hadn't so much takeaway!" Draco yells at his own reflection, jabbing at his stomach painfully hard with his wand before muttering a quick tailoring charm.

His mood only goes downhill from there because he feels like someone finally switched a light on and every time he looks at himself he wonders where the Draco he remembers went. He looks older, less refined somehow and softer in ways he doesn't remember noticing before and all it does it make his insides twist uncomfortably.

By the time Harry is set to come home Draco can't decide what to do with himself because he feels absolutely ridiculous. The last thing he wants to do is point out his insecurities to Harry but at the same time he doesn't see how Harry could come home after months away and look at him and not think _"what happened to the Draco I remember?"_

He paces the living room anxiously until finally settling on sitting on the sofa with a blanket thrown over his lap. He sits like that for nearly an hour before he hears the familiar pop of someone apparating into the living room.

"Draco!" He hears from behind him, and Harrys voice washes over him.  He feels his own hands tremble as he climbs to his feet but Harry is too fast slamming into him so forcefully he knocks them both down onto the couch. "Gods I've missed you," Harry whispers, his fingers threading into Draco's hair as he kisses him softly. "I'm never doing that again. I'll fucking quit!" Harry laughs, nuzzling his face into Draco's neck and wrapping his arms around him. Draco stiffens unconsciously, desperate for Harry's touch but unable to push his self consciousness down.  It's as if Harry's hands on his stomach are igniting a fire in his brain and its scream _"look out flab ahead"._

"When is the last time you showered?" He asks abruptly, when he feels Harry's thick facial hair scratching his neck.

"Who cares I've missed you."

"I missed you too. Now go shower first!" Draco laughs as Harry purposely rubs his beard into Draco's cheek tickling his soft skin.

"Shower with me!" Harry begs, already pulling Draco off the couch and Draco racks his brain for an excuse.

"You first. You'll be faster without me and then we can get to the fun parts after," Draco promises, his chest tightening at the way Harry is looking at him so reverently.

"Spoil sport," Harry laughs before running towards their bathroom taking the stairs two at a time and yelling. "But you're mine when I get out!"

By the time Harry does get out of the shower Draco is half hard just thinking about him wet and naked and it's all he can do not to take him immediately when he sees him come out of the bathroom. His hair is damp and hanging down around his eyes and neck, his face cleanly shaven and a towel is wrapped low around his waist as a few stray drops of water ripple down his stomach clinging to the smattering of dark hair across his broad chest.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Harry tells him with a smile, dropping his towel on the floor and swiftly moving to straddle Draco on the edge of the bed. "But why on earth are you still wearing clothes. That was not part of the deal."

As Harry reaches for the hem of Draco's t-shirt, Draco just shakes his head before reversing their positions and pressing Harry back down into the mattress. "It's my turn," Draco says with a smirk, dragging his hands across Harry's thighs and delighting in the way he still quivers when he touches him.

He may not feel like he's much to look at or touch at the moment but he sure as hell knows how to touch Harry, and he wants to desperately. He bends down, swallowing Harry's cock in one swift movement.  He pulls out every trick in his book purposely teasing Harry and prolonging his orgasm so long that by the time Harry is coming his entire body is shaking.

"Fuck, Draco."

"Mmmm," Draco agrees, kissing his way across Harry's flat stomach as he makes his own way up the bed.

"What about you?" Harry whispers, his arm thrown over his face and his mouth hanging open slightly, and he doesn't even move.

"How could I not come just from touching you," Draco says honestly, pressing a kiss to Harry's cheek before dropping down onto the bed beside him. And come he had; had shoved his hand down his pajama bottoms and come so hard and fast he hadn't been able to stop it, had just moaned around Harry's throbbing cock as he'd taken him down as deep as he could. Because he knew Harry better than himself and he knew exactly how to please him to the point of exhaustion so Harry would be too tired to want to reciprocate.  He knew exactly what to do to make Harry too tired to argue.

Harry just hums with appreciation, before rolling over to throw an arm and leg over Draco. He tries not to pull himself back as Harry wiggles and huffs as he gets himself into a comfortable position, his arm tightening around Draco's waist. Harry seems so content as he drifts easily off to sleep, but Draco lays awake for long hours simply staring at the ceiling.

The next morning Draco is dressed and in the kitchen making tea when he hears his own name being yelled from upstairs.

A moment later Harry is padding down into the kitchen dressed in a pair of Draco's old silk pajama bottoms that Harry seems to favor. Draco finds his eyes drawn to the fact that they're a bit too big on him, nearly falling down his hips and just barely covering his arse. It's exactly the reason he had always loved when Harry wore them, but now all he can think about is the fact that they fit Draco so different.  How much tighter those pants fit him when he had tried them on last week.

"Why are you out of bed?" Harry asks sounding quite petulant, as he comes to stand behind Draco and wrap his arms around him. "And you're dressed....why are you dressed? It's Sunday. We never get dressed on Sundays."

Draco opens his mouth to respond but can't think of the right way to say " _while you were gone I gained even more weight and somehow realized that while you still look like sex on legs I look like shit_ ".

Harry kisses the back of his neck, rubbing his hands over Draco's stomach in small circles. It feels so good, so right, and he wants to be touched, but he can't shake the fact that when Harry is touching him now all he can focus on is his own flaws as if Harry's fingers are dragging them to the surface like a magnet.

It doesn't matter that Harry is acting the same as always, because Draco notices and he doesn't see how Harry hasn't. He knows it's only a matter of time.

When he pulls away Harry begins to frown but Draco just kisses him softly whispering "I missed you," as his hands stroke the sides of Harry's face and it's seconds before Harry is melting into him with his own hands coming to rest at the base of Draco's spine.  He feels a bit guilty manipulating Harry like this but he just can't bring himself to deal with it yet. And he figures how much can it hurt to ensure that all the focus is on Harry anyway. After all fourteen years have taught him all the ways to distract Harry, to please him, to make him forget.

Things go on mostly like that for weeks. Draco is actually surprised at just how easy it is in the beinging. Surprising Harry with a blow job when he first wakes up and making it last so long they'll be late for work if they don't dress themselves immediately, staying just a bit later than necessary at work so that when he gets home all they have time for is eating before the Quidditch game comes on the wireless, or stalling so he has to meet Harry at the restaurant for their weekly date night instead of heading there together.  And each time he can see Harry smiling at him, as if just being near him is enough despite all the tings getting in their way.  And each time Draco's stomach flips painfully because he knows the only thing getting in their way is him.

The few times Harry has flat out asked for sex Draco simply pretends to be tired, chastising Harry for having so much sex on the brain.  He has a moment of guilt  each time at the hurt that flashes across Harry's face but the subject is dropped as easily as he'd known it would be.

And while it makes his chest ache there is still a part of his mind that cant rid himself of the thought that if he doesn't push Harry away first, it is only a matter of time before Harry does. And besides it isn't as if the rest of their life together is suffering, they still laugh over work stories at the pub every Friday night, still smile at each other over tea and scones in the mornings while reading the paper and they still fall together on the sofa at the end of a long day. And while everything looks the same on the surface Draco knows his insecurities are beginning to weave a dark web that is threatening to suffocate one of them, and he isn't entirely sure if it is him or Harry.

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months he can feel the strain between them festering and growing. He can see the damage it is causing in the way Harry reaches for him with a smile and then flinches away when Draco shifts on the couch pulling the blanket up over his stomach despite the warmth in the room, or the way Harry has not begun to crawl into bed well before Draco is eve out of the shower at night as if he already knows Draco will not want to be touched.

Things finally come to head a few months later on their anniversary when Harry walks into the kitchen carrying a bottle of champagne, a ridiculously large box of chocolates and the most endearingly hopeful look Draco had seen on him in years. Harry simply hands him the champagne and chocolates before shoving his hands in his pockets clearly not sure what to do with himself.

"Happy Anniversary."

"Chocolate!" Draco yells, and there are so many other things going through his mind but for some reason that is all that comes out.

"Er, yeah....your favorite. The French ones you like that we had on our anniversary last year."

"I don't need any more chocolate! Have you looked at me!"

Harry looks just about as confused as Draco imagines he ought to be given their lack of communication lately.

"Draco what's going on?"

"What's going on? What's going on?! I've let myself go, Potter! Or maybe you're so tired of looking at me you haven't noticed after all."

"Draco you sound crazy what the hell are you talking about?" Harry asks, taking a step towards Draco who backs away.

"I've let myself go! It means-"

"I know what the fuck it means! Aunt Petunia used to say it about some of the ladies in her book club. What I don't understand is why you're saying it about yourself."

And Draco has to steady his breathing as he forces himself to make eye contact with Harry and his stomach drops because all he sees is confusion, and he realizes for the first time that Harry really doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't understand how Harry can't see it when it's all he sees when he looks at himself.

"I'm not....I'm flabby!" Draco finally manages to get out.

"You're what?" Harry asks again, tentatively walking towards Draco as if he were a wild animal.

"You know...fat! Chubby! Tubby!  I've let myself go and its absolutely disgraceful especially considering how good looking you are."

"Let me get this straight.  The last few months you've pulled away...haven't let me touch you, have let me think you didn't want me after nearly a lifetime of wanting nothing but you, all because you think you've gotten fat?" Harry asks, and Draco feels even more ridiculous when Harry says it like that.

"It doesn't fit.  My Quidditch gear.  It's too small.  And then I started looking at all the photos and I realized its been years sicne I looked how I used to.  Then I started noticing that my clothes don't fit like they used to and neither do yours and i'm just...less than I used to be."

"Draco....Draco look at me," Harry whispers, his hand on Draco's chin tilting his head up until he has no choice but to look at Harry.

"I love you.  Just you, just as you are.  Of course you've changed you're older.  We're both older."  Draco opens his mouth to respond but Harry shakes his head, reaching out to grasp at the hem of Draco's t-shirt before pulling it over his head.  Instinctively Draco wraps his arms across his chest but Harry reaches out with gentle hands pulling them away.  "I love the way you look.  I love the way you sound.  I love watching you drink your tea, watching you dry your hair just out of the shower, I love watching you put on a suit just as much as i love watching you take it off.  I love to watch you, Draco.  You're gorgeous."  

Draco shivers as Harry begins to run his fingertips along his stomach and he forces himself not to think bad thoughts.  "I love how soft you are, the way your body feels underneath mine.  I like the way your thighs feel wrapped around my waist, the way your cock tastes sitting heavy in my mouth, I like the weight of your body on top of mine pressing me into the mattress when you're buried inside of me."

Draco chokes back a sob and he can't help but notice that he isn't the only one shaking now, as Harry's trembling fingers reach towards his waistband tugging his pants down.  Draco kicks them off, feeling incredibly self conscious as he stands there in the middle of the kitchen in the bright morning light completely nude.  Harry soon follows suit, as it trying to level the playing field with his own nakedness.

"I love that you don't look the same.  I love knowing that every change in your body happened while you were _with_ me, because we've been together.  Because we've spent our lives together." Harry whispers, voice gentle as he steps forward and begins to kiss his way up Draco's neck.  His hands are on Draco's stomach, running over every inch of skin they can reach before he finally drags one down to wrap around Draco's cock.  Draco can't help the whimper that escapes his mouth at the touch, and his eyes water as Harry continues his ministrations.

"Fuck, Draco, how could you think I wouldn't want you?  Gods I want you every moment of every day."

"Harry, please...please," and he is not ashamed to beg, cannot remember the last time he wanted Harry so badly.

"You're mine, Draco.... always mine."  And Draco has no idea when or where Harry got lube but there are suddenly fingers at his arsehole, teasing in small circles as Harry rubs his entrance before sliding one finger in then another.  "God you feel good, all of you feels so good," Harry moans and even if Draco didn't  believe his words, Harry's achingly hard cock shoved into his hip would tell him otherwise.

The sex isn't smooth or graceful, and Draco is quite sure he'll have bruises tomorrow, but all he can think about as Harry bends him over the kitchen counter and slams into him is how much he's missed this, missed Harry, missed being touched.

Harry is relentless, thrusting in and out of Draco almost erratically, his hands all over Draco's back, then kneading his arse and grabbing at his stomach as if every single inch of skin and flab were the most erotic thing he's ever seen or touched and Draco nearly weeps because its been so long since he felt like he deserved to be touched like this, since he felt worth it.

When he finally comes it is with a strangled scream, with Harry's one hand wrapped around his cock and the other around Draco's chest pulling him back against Harry's body as he presses himself against Draco as if trying to mold their bodies together.  They slide down the cabinets onto the floor in a sticky heap.  It's several minutes before Draco realizes he is sitting in Harry's lap and he starts to pull back.  

"Am I too heavy?" he whispers, hiding his face in Harry's neck.

"No," Harry answers quickly, pulling Draco back against his chest and into his lap.  "You're perfect."

 _Perfect_ , Draco thinks disbelievingly.  He doesn't feel perfect, but he trusts Harry.  Has always trusted Harry.  

"Ok?" Harry asks him several minutes later, his hands still moving over every inch of Draco's body as if not that he's been allowed to touch him again he might never stop.

"Perfect," Draco whispers.


End file.
